


This is All Gonna Blow Over

by chambergambit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chambergambit/pseuds/chambergambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little thing i wrote a while back on Tumblr. Justin's first day at Seagate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is All Gonna Blow Over

Justin knows that this is all gonna blow over in a month, tops. There’s no way this ridiculous sentence of seventy five fucking years is gonna stick. After all, aren’t most sentences for treason the death penalty? Or something? Surely the court would have given him that if they really believed he was guilty, which he isn’t, at all. He’s clearly the victim in this situation. All he did was hire an engineer who happened to be a murderous freak. He’ll get out on appeal in no time.

He says all of this to the prison guard that escorts Justin to his cell, but the guard does not seem to appreciate the complexity of his situation. All he does is roll his eyes, tug way too hard at Justin’s arm, and occasionally say “Yeah, yeah, buddy, you keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m not telling myself, I’m telling  _you_.” Justin says, turning his head to push up his glasses with his shoulder. He’d use his hands, but they’re cuffed behind him, which is both unnecessary and uncomfortable. “I give it a week before Stark’s apology shows up on the cover of the New York Times.”

Justin glances through the bars and into the cells as the guard leads him down the long, echoing hallway. Big guys with bigger muscles sneer back at him, baring their teeth and howling like animals. He tries to hold his head up high. All those books his lawyer made him read said to never show weakness in front of the other prisoners. As if he’d ever show weakness to anyone, anyway.

The guard comes to a stop in front of a cell about two thirds of the way down the hall. He takes the LaserDisc-sized ring of keys off his belt and shoves one of them into the lock. Justin peers inside, frowning at the sight of a bunk bed and the back of someone’s head lying in the bottom bunk..

“Uh, clearly there has been a mistake.” Justin says.

“Oh really?” says the guard as he turns the key and slides the bars open. “And what kind of mistake would that be?”

Justin purses his lips and takes a step back from the cell as if proximity were just as bad as being inside. “I’m famous. I’m a huge harassment risk. Obviously I should have my  _own cell_  for my  _own safety_. I mean, you can’t possibly expect me to—”

“You will stay in the cell you are assigned.” The guard says. “If you have a serious problem with your cellmate, inform administration and maybe you will be reassigned.”

“ _Maybe_?” says Justin. He’s about give this arrogant prick a piece of his mind, but he pushes Justin into the cell before he can get a word out. 

The guard releases Justin from the handcuffs and slides the bars closed behind him in one fluid motion. As he locks the cell up again, he shoots Justin a toothy grin.

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Hammer. Lights out in twenty.”

Justin grabs onto the bars and pushes his face out as far as he can. “If I get shivved in here, it’s your fucking fault!”

But the guard just laughs and walks away. Justin drums his fingers against the bars and taps his foot for a moment, contemplating just how he can get himself a new cell as soon as possible. He’ll probably have to call his lawyers, but he isn’t sure when he’ll have access to a phone. He saw a row of them on the wall by the warden’s office when he first came in, but he forgot to ask about using them.

_Whatever_. It’s not like he’s gonna be here long. He’s Justin fucking Hammer, billionaire playboy arms-dealer. He can handle living with some low-life criminal for a day or two.

Turning away from the bars, Justin whistles a casual tune as he approaches the bunk bed. A scrawny kid no older than twenty five comes into view, just lying there with his nose in a book, as if the most infamous prisoner this place has ever seen (at least Justin thinks he is. How many other people are charged with  _treason_?) isn’t standing three feet away from him.

Just clears his throat. His cellmate tears his eyes away from his book and looks up at him, his expression blank.

“Don’t get any ideas, kiddo.” Justin says. “One wrong move and I’ll have you shipped off to Guantanamo.”

His cellmate blinks twice before turning his attention back to his book.

“I’m a very powerful man,” says Justin, taking off his glasses and rubbing them clean with the hem of his neon orange shirt. “You do not want to mess with me. Tell that to your little criminal buddies while you’re at it.”

He waits for his cellmate to respond, but the kid says nothing. Justin puts his glasses back on, crosses his arms, and starts tapping his foot again, eager for some kind of answer. After a full minute of silence, Justin huffs and walks over to the side of the bed, where he climbs up to the top bunk. The mattress is stiff and smells like mildew and piss.

“Ugh, I gotta make a shopping list for my assistant.” Justin says as he settles into his bunk. “Number one: an actual fucking bed.”

He turns over to look down at the kid below him. “You want anything? I betcha I can get whatever you need. You want cigarettes? Drugs? Like I said, I’m a powerful man.”

His cellmate glances up, then turns a page of his book and keeps on reading.

 “You speak English?  _¿Habla inglés?_ ”  Justin frowns and adjusts his glasses. He’s not sure if the guy does it on purpose, but he tips his book in such a way that Justin can see the title. “ _Where the Red Fern Grows_ , huh? Spoiler alert, the dog dies.”

Once again, silence. Justin takes a deep breath and searches his mind for something else to ask. “What are you in for? Is being mute a federal crime now?”

Nothing.

With a sigh, Justin lays back on the stinky mattress and stares up at the ceiling. “Well, lemme know if you need something, because I’m gonna be gone before you know it. This is all gonna blow over.”

It has to.  _It has to_.


End file.
